Tweed flat cap, Wellingtons and Barbours aside, Tom Hodgkinson belongs to the High Renaissance. The jovial 42-year-old best-selling British author, magazine editor, and international authority on idleness has the soft chin, abbreviated pout, and natural curls of a Raphael cherub, and his large, pale eyes are abundantly fringed with dark lashes.
Fittingly, success has not affected his pastoral unworldliness. The publication of his latest book, The Idle Parent: Why Less Means More, released earlier this year, bestowed no urban sparkle. He has, in fact, forgotten about this interview, and, in well-modulated and permanently abashed tones, murmurs: 'Sorry about that - I was just getting myself a cup of tea.'
Hodgkinson may be the creator of National Unawareness Day, marked on November 1, but he's no flaneur. He is, in fact, impressively industrious, caring for his family while running his picturesque North Devon farm along with The Idler, the magazine he founded at the age of 25, in addition to contributing regular articles to the national press and writing books. He lectures around the country, holds seminars on 'philosophy, husbandry and merriment' at his home ('we debate usury and learn about bread-making, bee-keeping, wood storage, poultry and vegetable growing'), and writes a blog.
His widely disseminated Freedom Manifesto includes the directives: 'Bake bread. Play the ukulele ... Quit moaning ... Stop consuming. Start producing. Back to the land ... Be merry.'
Today Hodgkinson is not, as he is in so many shoots and on the cover of the second of his three books, How to be Free, playing the ukulele; he's simply too busy. He explains his five-year passion thus: 'I'd been trying to teach myself the guitar, but wasn't really getting anywhere because I was very bad at it. When I got a ukulele, I started playing it around the house, and it was great fun. Its history is actually connected with lazing around.
'It came to Hawaii in the late 19th century from Portugal, and the loafers of the island took it up with great alacrity. The greatest player's wife hated it, because it stopped him doing household tasks. It's the same today. If I'm playing it in the kitchen and Victoria walks in, I quietly put it down and carry on with the washing up.'